An Unexpected Development
by ladyflutter
Summary: EOC. At the beginning of a new life, a scream sends Erik's life in an unthought of direction.
1. A Shout in the Dark

Disclaimer: As much as I wish, I have absolutely no claim to owning POTO. No characters, music, places, etc...are mine, except those you don't recognize 'cause they came out of my mind. So don't sue me, I'm not making any money off this and I don't really have anything you would want, unless you count my piano and cats...

"Nadya" is the French form of the name "Nadezhda", which means "hope" in Russian.

"Fiacre" means raven.

* * *

He had never intended to stay in the _Opera Populaire_ forever. Once the police and opera employees had left his lair, he returned to retrieve a few items: some clothing, books, and a single brass key. And his music, all except _Don Juan Triumphant_. That was one piece he would never hear again. The music box he left behind. He didn't need anything else, as his new home had everything this one did. Except the memory of Christine. As he disappeared through the broken mirror, he never even glanced back. 

As always, a large black cloak and hat were hanging in the dark corridor, awaiting his next venture above ground. Now, he took them for the last time. Pushing the iron gate open along the Rue Scribe, the Phantom of the Opera left as quietly as he had arrived all those years ago.

Reaching the street, he quickly hailed a cab and gave the direction: _Cœur Blessé_. The driver started the horses, and he quickly lapsed into his own thoughts, lulled by the sound of the horses' hooves on cobblestones, then the soft dirt of a country road.

* * *

Anyone who thought of Nadya Delauney thought she was the luckiest woman alive. To have captured and **retained** the interest of Fiacre Tremaine, one of the wealthiest men in all of France, was an accomplishment that bore notice. To many of Nadya's acquaintances, this was probably the height of all they could have hoped for her. Fiacre's family estate was the largest in the province, even larger than her father's. To all outward appearances, he was hopelessly devoted to her. The marriage was set to take place in 3 months, May 23. Hundreds of guests had been invited, the church was reserved, her wedding gown was the most talked of garment in all of Aquitaine. 

Nadya had never felt more trapped.

Fiacre was a good looking man, wealthy and well-connected. Mothers throughout all of France had been trying to foist their daughters on him for years. Many young ladies had been favored by him, only to be cast aside for others very quickly. This had puzzled many. Now, Nadya knew why.

* * *

Erik jolted awake as the carriage stopped. Looking out, he realized they had reached Cœur Blessé. Leaning out, he gave directions to his new home: _la Maison de le Masque_. When the carriage stopped again, he stepped out and accepted his 2 small cases from the driver. Handing the driver his fare, he watched as the carriage disappeared into the deepening twilight. He turned and walked briskly down the lane, up to the house. Lamps could be seen shining through the windows; Madame Giry had evidently followed his instructions and had engaged a housekeeper for him. As he started to walk the last few yards to the house, he was stopped suddenly by a scream. A woman's scream. 

**Whaddya think? Please please please review and let me know!**


	2. Rescuing

Disclaimer: As much as I wish, I have absolutely no claim to owning POTO. No characters, music, places, etc...are mine, except those you don't recognize 'cause they came out of my mind. So don't sue me, I'm not making any money off this and I don't really have anything you would want, unless you count my piano and cats...

* * *

Erik stopped at the sound, turning his head in the direction it had come from. There it was again, this time accompanied by sobbing. Setting down his bags, he quickly strode off towards the sound, heading into the forest that surrounded his new home. The woman screamed again, louder and more frantically. As he made his way further into the dense trees, new sounds were added to the ever increasing screams. Scuffling, leaves rustling, pleas and whimpers now could be heard as well. It seemed the woman, whoever she was, was rapidly losing against whatever she was fighting. 

As he crept closer, he was somewhat surprised to come upon a semi-cleared path in the woods. And just ahead, he saw what all the commotion was about. Something surged inside of him, his vision grew red, and he swept down the path.

The man smiled wolfishly at the woman struggling beneath him. Every scream, every moan, and every effort to fight him off only served to excite him more. He had had many women, and many more had wanted him. Only this one had refused him. Time and time again, she had scorned his overtures, even though she knew it was pointless to resist. Now, he would take what was rightfully his. As he prepared to complete his conquest, he was suddenly yanked away and thrown several yards. He sputtered in pain and frustration. Looking around, he saw no one. Lunging back towards the woman, he suddenly was met with an immense figure. Cloaked and hooded, the massive man struck out at him, catching him squarely on the jaw. Without a moment's hesitation, the stranger struck him again, this time in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He collapsed onto the ground, gasping. He swung out wildly at this man who _dared_ to interfere, missed, and was swiftly dispatched into unconsciousness.

Erik stood for a moment over the prone figure of the man he had just fought. Once he was sure that the fiend was out cold, he glanced back at the woman. She was huddled on the ground, sobbing, trying to cover herself with the tattered remains of her dress. Erik walked towards her. As he neared her, she cried out and feebly tried to get to her feet. As her legs collapsed beneath her, she wailed in terror. Erik quickly realized why she was still so frightened. He stopped quickly. "Don't be afraid. I promise, I will not hurt you," he said in a calm, soothing voice. As if to reinforce his words, he took his cloak off and held it out to her. She looked at him with large, terrified eyes, afraid to trust any man. Erik remained standing, holding the cloak out to her. As she slowly began to move towards him to take the proffered garment, her legs again refused to hold her weight. As he saw her crumple, Erik moved swiftly to catch her. She cried out in fear, and used the remainder of her strength to hurl herself away from him. She continued to fall, now too far away for Erik to catch her before she hit the ground. He cringed as her head hit with a sickening crack. She lay on the ground, imobile.

Wrapping the woman in his cloak, Erik lifted her into his arms and strode back towards his house. It took him some time to reach it. 'I must have gone further than I realized,' he thought as the houselights came into view. Reaching the door, he knocked impatiently. The door opened to reveal a woman of about 45, tall, with a reserved expression. She looked at the man with the woman in his arms. "Yes?" she asked.

"I'm Erik Destler," Erik said briskly. "This woman needs attention. Be so kind as to direct me to a spare room, please. And have someone bring my bags, they are sitting on the walk."

"Certainly, Monsieur. Come this way," the woman said, leading him towards the staircase. "I am Adèle Dumas, your housekeeper. Madame Giry told us to expect your arrival, so everything is in order." She stopped at the top of the stairs. "Madame said that your room was to be the last one on the left. The room next to it is a spare bedroom. Will that suit you Monsieur?"

"Yes, yes, that will be fine," Erik snapped. The woman had begun shaking and trembling in his arms. He could tell she was cold, and probably in shock as well. He followed Adèle down the hall and waited impatiently as she opened the door. She quickly turned to light a gas lamp, then another. He laid the woman down on the bed. Glancing around, he saw the fireplace."Please send someone up to light this," he said, gesturing to it. "And bring some warm water and towels." He stopped briefly to consider the woman's ripped dress. "Are there any women's clothes in this house?" At Adèle's expression, he quickly added, "This woman is hurt badly, she will need something else to wear."

"There may be something in the armoire from Madame Giry's room," Adèle replied uncertainly. At his dismissive gesture, she scurried away. Erik looked down at the woman lying on the bed, eyes still closed. He sighed.

"Who are you?"


	3. Musings by Firelight

Disclaimer: As much as I wish, I have absolutely no claim to owning POTO. No characters, music, places, etc...are mine, except those you don't recognize 'cause they came out of my mind. So don't sue me, I'm not making any money off this and I don't really have anything you would want, unless you count my piano and cats...

* * *

Erik sat in an armchair near the fire, thinking about the evening. After Adèle had returned with some nightclothes, he had left the room, allowing her to change the woman's clothes in privacy. When he had returned, having changed out of traveling clothes, Adèle was finishing placing some clothes in a small armoire. He could see the woman's torn clothing in a heap on the floor, ready to be taken away. A fire was blazing, sending warmth and light into the room. The young woman was lying in the bed, so very still and pale. 

This young woman puzzled him. From her clothes and the look of her, she was apparently a young lady of high society. And yet, if that were so, why was she in the woods, alone, at night? He thought too how she had fought her attacker. No well-bred lady would think of such a thing...All in all, she was a puzzling girl. And puzzles interested him.

After Adèle had finished with the clothes, she approached him, "Monsieur, shall I call for a doctor? The young lady seems to have been hurt quite badly."

Erik stopped and looked at her. Until that moment, the thought of the girl's injuries had been in the back of his mind. Now Adèle's words made him consider. Did he want yet another stranger in his new home? He decided: "No, madame, I will tend her myself. Please, bring some warm water and cloths." She looked surprised, but hurried off. Erik went into his room, relieved that someone had followed his instructions and brought his cases in. After looking briefly in one, he emerged from his room with a small glass vial in one hand. He met Adèle in the hallway, she having brought the water and cloths. He motioned her inside the room. Having set the basin down on a table next the bedside, she stood expectantly, sure that he would require her help. She was then surprised to hear him say curtly, "You may go. Be sure there is water kept warm in the kitchens. I will fetch it myself later if it is needed."

"But monsieur, surely you do not mean to care for this girl alone?" she asked, shocked.

Erik merely turned and glared at the woman. She looked at him, still obviously displeased, but did as she was told and left. When he heard the door close behind him, Erik turned his attention to the young woman in the bed. He considered her still form, deciding which injuries needed the most attention. Slowly, he lifted her head and felt the back of it. He sighed. As he had feared, there was a large lump nearly at the base of her skull. That would account for her unconsciousness, he thought. Unfortunately, there was little he could do for that.

Looking at her face and arms, he winced a little at the many scratches, bruises, and other marks on her pale skin. Given where he had found her, it was not surprising that there was also fair amount of dirt on those scratches, which needed to be cleaned up. At least that he could help with. Taking the vial of clear liquid, he put a few drops into the basin of water, followed by one of the cloths. Once it was wet, he wrung it out and began to gently wipe her cuts clean. He was confident that the slight antiseptic he had added to the water would prevent any infection.

After having finished cleaning her arms, he turned his attention to her face. Her lips were swollen and bruised; the lower appeared to have been cut. Her one eye was slowly turning black, and there were scratches and bruises here as well. Rewetting the cloth, he slowly began to wipe away the dirt and dried blood from her face. As he did so, he was surprised at the delicacy of her features.

He studied her face almost as an artist would. Her face was rather oval shaped, but the chin was a little too sharp to be considered perfect. Her skin was as pale as porcelain, and almost translucent. Her nose was small, with a slight uptilt at the tip. With her eyes still closed, it was impossible to tell what color they were, but they were well shaped with long thick lashes. Almost like Christine's...he shook his head violently. That was one woman he must never think of again. And no woman could ever be like _her._

Having finished with her arms and face, he again considered her still form. Adèle's reaction to his insistence on caring for the woman had some merit. Should she awake, she would undoubtedly be distressed at what he knew he had to do next. Yet it could not be helped. And it was better to try and get it over with while she was still asleep.

He pulled back the blankets and stepped back hastily. He was concerned that her legs may have been injured in her...ordeal. He recalled that she had been unable to stand or run away from him. Thankfully the nightclothes Adèle had found had consisted of a long nightdress. Somewhat gingerly he raised the hem a few inches, just enough to see her ankles. As he had feared, one was greatly swollen and turning many shades that it should not have been. Slipping quickly from the room, he again went to his cases. This time he returned with a larger bottle marked Witch Hazel. Taking a fresh cloth, he soaked it with the solution. Lifting her leg a bit, he deftly wrapped the damp cloth around her swollen foot. Securing it with a dry cloth, he gently placed her foot back in bed and drew the covers up over her. He reached down and hesitantly touched her neck, searching for her pulse. It was there, though beating so slowly that he was concerned. Pulling a chair closer to the fire, he sat down, prepared to watch over her until she awoke.


	4. Awakenings

Disclaimer: As much as I wish, I have absolutely no claim to owning POTO. No characters, music, places, etc...are mine, except those you don't recognize 'cause they came out of my mind. So don't sue me, I'm not making any money off this and I don't really have anything you would want, unless you count my piano...

"Nadya" is the French form of the name "Nadezhda", which means "hope" in Russian.

* * *

Erik jumped awake in his chair. He swiftly looked around the room to see what had startled him. Seeing sparks flying up in the fireplace, he relaxed. It had merely been the log crackling. That resolved, he looked at the bed. The woman was still asleep. He glanced at the clock on the mantle; it had been nearly 4 hours. She needed to wake up, or she might never do so. However, he knew that forcibly waking her would only terrify her. He walked across the room and sat in a chair next to the fire to decide what to do. He needn't have worried. 

Across the room, Nadya was drifting slowly back to consciousness. The first thought that she had was "warm". 'Why am I warm? I was riding, in the woods...' she thought. Then what had followed her ride rushed into her mind. No, she should most definitely **not** be warm. With that thought, her eyes flew open, only to squint in the firelight. Letting her eyes adjust, she slowly took in her surroundings.

She was in a bedroom, apparently, since she seemed to be laying in a bed. The bed was soft, and there seemed to be light, warm blankets over her. There were dimmed gas lights scattered on the walls, turned down low. The windows were dark; 'it must be nighttime,' she thought. Her gaze travelled around the room, across the empty chair near the bed, then to the fireplace, and the chair next to the fire...she stiffened instantly. There was a large man sitting in that chair. Who was this? She vaguely began to remember another man in the woods besides, _him_. Was that who this was? She lay perfectly still, not knowing where she was or whom to trust.

Erik had heard her start to stir. 'Good,' he thought to himself, 'Now I won't have to wake this girl.' He had been more concerned than he liked to admit that she had been unconscious so long. That head wound could be dangerous, especially as there was little he could to treat it. All he could do was watch over her. And as he had watched, his ever working mind had grown ever more curious about this young woman.

Now she was looking at him, utterly terrified. As he stood and walked over towards the bed, she visibly began to shake, and tried to sit up, as if to leave. But he knew she was too weak, and he was hardly surprised when she collapsed back onto the bed. As he neared the bed, he could see how frightened she was. After the affair with Christine, he had no desire to frighten anyone. He stopped, stepped back a bit, pulled the chair next to the bed closer to him, and sat down.

She looked at the man sitting next to the bed. He was unbelievably tall, broad shouldered and forbidding-looking. He practically breathed power and...something she could not name. She risked a look at his face. Dark hair, green gold eyes, and a white mask. She looked away quickly, too scared to wonder about his mask. She held herself perfectly still and stiff, wary of what would happen next.

Erik himself was ill at ease. It was one thing to not want to frighten someone, it was completely another to actually _do_ so. For so long, he had been in the habit of simply doing as he liked, regardless of how others might feel. If it took scaring someone out of their wits to get what he wanted, so be it. Only since his tactics had failed with Christine had he begun to think that maybe that was not the best course of action. It had only served to drive Christine away, terribly frightened of him. Now here was yet another young woman, also terrified. However, he knew that at least so far, he had had little to do with that. He certainly had no desire to add to her fears. He decided to simply go slowly, and begin with first things first.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked quietly.

Nadya started to nod, then stopped painfully. Apparently, answering him without speaking was not going to be possible. "A little, I think," she replied softly. She glanced up at him as he leaned forward to hear her.

Erik smiled slightly. She was doing well enough to talk. That was a good sign. As he was about to ask her name, he was surprised to hear her soft question. "Where am I?" she asked.

"You are in my home," Erik replied. "A few miles outside of Cœur Blessé." Before he could say anymore, she asked "H-how did I come to be here?"

Erik swallowed. How much did she remember? If she remembered nothing, should he tell her? And yet, she must have retained some memories of the evening, since she was so afraid. He opted for an easy beginning, "I found you in the woods some distance from this house." He paused, waiting for her reaction. He was not disappointed. Her eyes closed in remembered pain. He felt it was safe to assume she remembered why she was in the woods to begin with. Though, he suddenly realized, **he** didn't know why she had been out there. He shook his head. "You fell, hitting your head badly on a stone. You were unconcious, so I brought you here. My housekeeper..." here he paused, unsure how to tell her of Adèle's assistance. Her face became flushed, her eyes remained closed. He pressed on, just wanting to get this over with. "She helped you with your clothes, and put you to rest in here." He stopped, waiting to see if this would be enough for her.

Nadya swallowed painfully, and opened her eyes when Erik's voice stopped. She knew that more had happened then just hitting her head, but she was unsure of what he knew. "Thank you, monsieur," she said quietly. "I appreciate your kindness." She stopped, too tired and afraid to ask any more. She closed her eyes.

Erik could see she was tiring. However, his curiosity had to be satisified on one point. "Before you sleep, I have one question for you," he said to her. Stiffening, Nadya opened her eyes warily, afraid of what he was going to ask. "What is your name?" he asked.

She sighed. "Nadya," she said simply. She was reluctant to give her surname. He might return her to her home, the thought of which was unbearable. She closed her eyes again.

"Thank you," Erik said softly. "I will be back later. I may have to wake you. You must not sleep too long until your head has healed."He paused, then said firmly, "I will not harm you." He started to rise when her eyes opened again. She looked at him, rather wide-eyed, as if to see if she dared speak. As he sat back down, she said very quietly, "I might ask you that same question, monsieur." She looked at him, afraid he would take offense at her boldness. Erik only raised his eyebrows, though she could only see one. "Erik," he said simply. "Now sleep," he ordered, this time rising slowly from the chair so as not to frighten her. She merely blinked slowly at him, then shut her eyes. He stood, his arms on the back of his chair, waiting to be sure she was asleep. Once her breathing had evened and slowed, he walked to the door of the room, quietly shutting it behind him. He sighed. 'So much for quiet and solitude,' he thought. He walked across the hall, and began to unpack.

* * *

**Authors note: Well, now I see why all those stories I've read always say..."Review, review, review!" I actually got 5 reviews today, and almost danced when I saw them in my Inbox. Such a great motivation to keep writing...I guess the moral is, "Want updates? Please review!" Thanks to all who read this!**  



	5. Self Examinations

Disclaimer: Sadly enough, I don't own anything to do with POTO. However, Nadya and any other unrecognizable characters are mine. I'm not making any money off this (also sadly enough), so please don't sue me, I have nothing to give you. Enjoy!

"Nadya" is the French form of the name "Nadezhda", which means "hope" in Russian.

"Chenu" means "snow white" in French.

* * *

Someone was calling her. She could hear them saying her name, but she had no desire to answer. It was so peaceful here in this dark warmness. It was as though nothing could harm her here. Yet that voice was so terribly insistent, calling her over and over again. It was now louder, and she could feel hands on her shoulders. 

Nadya's eyes flew open. There was a man standing over her, shaking her. Images flashed through her mind and she started to scream. A large, gloved hand was clamped over her mouth. "Shhhhh!" Erik hissed at her. "Do you want to wake everyone in the house?"he asked irritably.

At the sound of his voice, Nadya began to remember where she was, and she started to calm down. Erik could feel her stop trembling and begin to relax. He removed his hand from over her mouth, and released her shoulders. She lay there, getting her breath back. Her breath was still coming in gasps, a testament to her very real terror. Her eyes were wide, darting back and forth, as if she expected something to come flying at her. "I'm sorry," she said in between gasps. "I didn't know...," her voice faded, unable to finish the thought.

Erik stepped back, suddenly realizing what had made her scream. 'Of course,' he thought, 'I should have realized.' And yet, when she hadn't responded to his calling her name, he didn't know what else to do. But still, he had told her that he would have to wake her. And didn't she believe him that he wouldn't hurt her? With these thoughts rushing through his head, he turned and stalked out of the room without a word to her.

Nadya watched him go in confusion. What had happened? Was he that very angry with her for being startled? She remembered that she had not told him what had happened to make her so afraid. Perhaps he had not been the one who saved her. She realized she didn't know if that had been this Erik or not. From these musings, her thought ran naturally back to the events of the previous night. Try as she might, she still could not understand how he had known to follow her, how he had even known she was leaving. Remembered scenes flashed in her mind; riding, hearing hoofbeats out of time with her horse's. She wondered what had happened to Chenu, her white mare. She remembered being pulled off of her...she shuddered and yawned. With these thoughts swirling through her mind, she succumbed to the overwhelming exhaustion and fell into a troubled sleep.

Erik himself was not so calm as he stalked through the house, leaving bewildered servants in his wake. He threw the door open, slamming it shut behind him. 'Amazing,' he thought ruefully, 'one day in this place and already I am making as much noise as any of those ballet rats in Paris!' This thought did nothing to improve his mood.

He strode to the stables, intent on taking out one of the horses Madame Giry was supposed to have bought for him. As he walked between the stalls, he was momentarily startled to see a white Arabian mare. Then he remembered, she had been in the woods last night as well. He had almost forgotten telling Adèle to have someone go fetch her. He went over to the stall, cautiously putting his hand out. The mare came forward warily, her nostrils widening as she sniffed him. Apparently he met her approval, for she butted his hand. He slowly stroked her head, the previous hours events still coursing through his mind.

After having unpacked his belongings and eaten, he had returned to the room where Nadya lay. She was sleeping soundly, and appeared to be comfortable. Having assured himself that she was still well, he had gone on an inspection of the rest of this house. It had been years since he had seen the place, and it certainly bore little resemblance now to what it had been. Antoinette Giry had done a remarkable job in the little time he had given her. He had intended to bring Christine here after _Don Juan. _However, his plans had changed somewhat. He had decided to come here anyway, since he needed a new home. Since he had never seen the house since it had been fixed, never imagined Christine in it's rooms, it was relatively free of memories for him. For that reason alone, it was immensely more attractive than his home under the opera house.

Having roamed the halls and rooms of his new domain, he had again returned to the girl. It had now been several hours since she had awakened, and he was concerned. She must not sleep overlong with an injury such as hers. He tried calling her name, softly at first then louder. When she still did not stir, he had begun to be alarmed. He started to shake her shoulders gently, hoping that would wake her. And wake her it did. He shook his head in remembrance. He had not thought that it might scare her. Looking back, he knew he should have thought of that. After the previous evening, probably being touched at all would frighten her. But what else was there to do? He sighed, frustrated. He had wanted nothing more than to disappear, to try to knit his soul back into something he could live with. And now, here was someone whom he did not know, had little wish to know, and yet somehow he felt the need to care for her. It was very perplexing.

Erik looked up as the mare butted his head again. Apparently, she wanted something more than caresses. Looking around, he spied a tub of apples. Taking one, he gave it to the mare, who nipped it neatly out of his palm. Erik sighed as he watched her. He knew he had frightened the girl, something that uncharacteristically he did not want to do. Christine's words about his distorted soul had struck a chord within him. A disfigured face was something to be hidden and feared, but not something that could be changed. A soul in that same state was just as abhorrent, but ultimately changeable. He knew that nothing he did would bring Christine back to him, yet he had no wish to continue as he was. What to do? Apologizing went against his nature, and he was not sure he could quite bring himself to do that. Perhaps explaining would suffice. He turned and walked briskly back to the house.

* * *

**Authors note: Well, here's another chapter. Once again, please please review! You have no idea how much reviews can motivate and produce updates:) Any ideas on where you think this story should go? Let me know! Thanks for reading!**  



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